Highland Waters
by Diem Kieu
Summary: This is the story of an encounter with the Selkie Folk. They are shape shifters with two forms: human and seal. Love is said to have the power to change fate. If that is the case, given the powerful – almost magical- romantic lure that the selkies have over humans, how could calling upon a selkie leave one's fate untouched?
1. Introduction: Concerning the Selkies

Concerning The Selkies

This is the story of an encounter with the Selkie Folk. Selkies appear mainly in Scottish and Irish folklore, especially along the coasts. They are shape shifters with two forms: Human and Seal. Some say that Selkies are humans who favored the sea over land, while others insist that they are the souls of those who died at sea.

When they shed their sealskins to become human, they are said to be extremely beautiful – so much so, in fact, that many have tried to steal their pelts in order to obtain the privilege of a Selkie spouse.

A human maiden unsatisfied with love may also call upon a Selkie lover by crying seven tears into the sea.

Love is said to have the power to change fate. If that is the case, given the powerful – almost magical- romantic lure that the selkies have over humans, how could calling upon a selkie leave one's fate untouched?


	2. Prologue: The Tempest

The cool zephyr of the sea caressed Frodo's face as the white ship set sail for the Undying Lands, as if to console him.

His calling had come from the coast of the setting sun, yet that calling had required him to forsake all that he held dear – the Shire, the forest of Lórien, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and most of all, his friend among friends, Samwise Gamgee. He could see and feel the light of Galadriel's phial fading slowly as the ship drifted further away from the shore of the Grey Havens. The wind blew his deep brown curls into tangles as he went through his memories one by one – the faces of his late mother and father, his time in the Shire with his Uncle Bilbo, the trials of his quest with the Ring, the wedding of Sam and Rosie… Suddenly tears, like pearls slipping from his watery blue eyes, landed upon the pale and beautifully carved elven wood of the ship. The next thing Frodo knew, he felt a mighty yet benign hand upon his shoulder and heard the familiar voice of an elderly but powerful man.

"Do not let your heart be troubled. We are headed from what we know to a far better place."

It was Gandalf, the wizard who had guided him on his quest, as he had done for Bilbo before him. He was once a grey wizard, but his robes had turned white after his encounter with the Balrog. Now, work in Middle Earth was done for both of them, as well as for everyone else who rode this ship – or so it seemed. The Lady Galadriel was among them, along with Elrond, the lord of Imladris and the father of Queen Arwen, and the aging Bilbo Baggins. The wind toyed with Galadriel's long golden tresses like a long lost lover as they flowed beneath her ivory traveling cloak. Her fine, regal white gown made her resemble a princess bride ready to be walked down the aisle and surrender to the arms of some fair prince once and for all. Bilbo's hair, once bright and curly like that of any hobbit, was now wiry and hoary from his extensive years with the Ring. His face had more lines than the bark of Fangorn himself. His attire of sage green, mellow gold, and taupe, although fine indeed, seemed only to reinforce his ever-withering youth.

Youth among the hobbits on the ship seemed to reside solely in Frodo. The wind continued to touch his smooth, fair-skinned face. He almost could have been mistaken for a little princeling, especially with the simple yet beautiful vest and coat that happened to match his eyes. Yet speaking to him would prove otherwise, for his maturity and experience with the Ring would have been unfurled. Hence there lay the reason why he stepped on this ship and did not stay in the Shire.

Gandalf's voice suddenly awakened him from his thoughts.

"Frodo, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"You were reflecting on your life in Middle Earth, weren't you?"

"I-I was, actually."

Frodo, although he knew the wizard quite well, was rather surprised that he correctly assumed his thoughts. He didn't do a very good job hiding it.

"Don't worry. It's actually quite an apt action for an occasion such as this," reassured the wizard.

"I suppose. I can feel the light of Galadriel's phial fading."

The lady chimed in at the mentioning of her gift to the Ring-Bearer.

"Fear not. You shall soon witness a star far brighter than Éarendil could ever be."

She then gazed off into the sky, smiling at its beauty. Frodo had never seen her happier – perhaps this was only because she had been so focused on the quest that was at hand, although it was Elrond's first time seeing her so joyous as well. Maybe it was because she was finally released from her duties concerning the mortal world. Knowing her, one could never know for sure. However, it was no wonder that she was admiring the skies above. Its shades of gold and rose-gold, along with its oranges, crimsons, purples, and blues, outshone the finest silks crafted by the hands of Men (although perhaps not those of the Elves, since they were wise and skilled beyond any creature) as the sun sank into the waters ahead like a neighboring ship surrendering to its demise.

According to the lore Frodo had been told, this was why the Undying Lands were to the West of Middle Earth – as the sun sets in the sky of Arda on the western horizon, so does the soul set in the sky of life in a paradise to the west of a mortal world… A heavy sigh passed Elrond's lips as he noticed Frodo place his hand on his left shoulder.

"It's the Morgul wound again, isn't it?"

Frodo nodded, unwilling to speak of his grim scar.

"Is that the true reason you're here with us?"

"Yes," said the hobbit, his voice quiet and reluctant.

That night, when he lay awake on a bed as soft as clouds and far too comfortable to be believed as part of the sleeping quarters on the upper deck of the ship, he had a clear and exquisite view of the night sky's indigo velvet, adorned with stars glimmering like diamonds – no, not diamonds, but like the Arkenstone that Bilbo spoke of in the tales of his adventures – tens of thousands of Arkenstones lighting up the heavens that floated upon the fair lands the Elves called home, with a bright mithril orb as their moon. The waves rocked him gently as a mother would cradle her child, slowly lulling him to sleep.

….

The wretched, icy piercing pain in Frodo's shoulder awakened him from his slumbers. Upon opening his eyes, the sky was as dark as the nightmares that had haunted his sleep back in the Shire. The glittering stars that he had admired hours before had disappeared behind black clouds, like a Nazgûl's veil that had blocked out all light and hope. The mithril moon was nowhere to be seen.

A crash of thunder boomed suddenly, causing Frodo's startled eyes to widen in fear as a flash of lightning cracked in the sky. Elvish crewmen rushed to prepare to tread the imminent storm. Rain began to patter upon the ship's wood as Frodo scurried to grab his cloak and wrapped it closely about his person. He could see Gandalf hurrying to aid them with an angered look upon his face. Elrond ran close behind to lend an extra pair of hands. Galadriel, as well as Bilbo, stood in a state similar to Frodo's, wrought with fear and worry. Galadriel's white cloak was about her, her hair blowing frantically in the howling winds. The thunder rolled louder as the rain fell harder upon the ship. The waves grew mightier and more violent. The once serene ship was now a chaotic, soaking wet riot of motion and thunder and lightning. Frodo noticed a nearby rope holding up one of the sails unraveling before his eyes. For a minute he froze, watching it come undone, until it was reduced down to its last fiber – and then, he grasped it desperately, tugging it with all the might that his little body could muster so the sail would not fall to the deck and steer the ship off course. His hands were quickly burned and chafed from its coarseness. The brutal winds blew the hard, icy rain against his back.

He loosened his grip just a little bit. A cruel gust knocked him off his bare feet and toppled him off the boat and into the freezing seas below. A crewman shouted to Elrond in Elvish:

"HELP! THE RINGBEARER HAS FALLEN OVERBOARD! RINGBEARER OVERBOARD!"

The forceful waves had already driven his small frame far from the sip by the time the crewman's cries reached the elf's ears. The cold waters made the new wounds on Frodo's palms sting with searing pain, in addition to the returning agony in his left shoulder. He thrashed desperately at the sea, trying to swim back to the rope that had been tossed for him. Alas, his efforts were to no avail; the currents were too strong for a hobbit to tread alone. His weary body was soon lost from sight among the tempest like the drops of rain that fell upon the turbulent ocean.

Elrond and Gandalf both looked on from the ship's edge in disbelief.

"FRODO!"

Only vile gales and crashing waves answered the wizard's call.

"FRODO!"

The tempest's replies were no kinder to Elrond than they were to Gandalf. The elderly Bilbo Baggins rushed to the deck sobbing.

"No, no…! Not my nephew! My boy! Frodo, my boy…!"

Galadriel came forth, but remained a few feet behind the rest as she buried her face in her fair hands and quietly wept.

….

All Frodo knew was that he was surrounded by water and pitch black darkness. There was no way that he'd make it back to the ship now. He was dead – wasn't he? That had to be why he wasn't gasping for breath. He didn't feel any pain in his shoulder or hands anymore, either.

He had to swim up, but not for air. He needed at least some clue about where he was. When he finally broke the surface, all he could see was the vast night sky, studded with twinkling stars and a glimmering crescent moon. Even with the scant light, however, Frodo could see the hint of a nearby shore. He automatically went towards it, noticing his suddenly improved swimming skills. He reached it soon enough.

However, when he rose to his feet, he heard a thud against the wet sand, as if he had cast off a heavy garment. He looked down at the ground and instantly noticed something dark puddled at his feet. He picked it up as the night air caused goose bumps to form on his wet naked skin. In his hands, it was thick and felt like very soft leather covered with short, silky fur. It had to be the most luxurious animal pelt he'd ever had the privilege to touch. He walked on to the beach and knelt in the cool dry sand, which coated his feet and shins as he further examined the pelt. It was a very dark grey – almost black- with silver spots adorning its brow. Before long, he discovered that what he was holding was a sealskin.

He didn't know how it ended up lying at his feet, but he was grateful to have something to keep him warm. He briefly scanned the strange beach about him. No one else was there. Suddenly weary, he lay down in the soft sand, using the pelt as a blanket. Before falling asleep, he gazed up at the glimmering moon and stars. At least he had that to comfort him here. The animal skin molded to his body as he slumbered, forming the tail of a seal.


	3. Chapter I: The Maiden's Cliff

The first rays of morning light crept obnoxiously into Merida's room as she awoke from her slumbers.

As usual, her mane was a wild tangled mess of brilliant red curls that could have provided a good amount of fodder for a bird's nest. She wasn't quite awake yet as she lazily scanned the room. Checking for her mother's presence had long been second nature to her. The Queen of DunBroch was almost always at the foot of her bed to wake her and remind her of the day's plans – normally they were lessons on etiquette, poetry, music, or the history, geography, and politics of the kingdom they both inhabited. Yet even she had to admit that Queen Elinor had significantly eased her pressures upon her daughter after she had returned from her ursine form. Nonetheless, there was no ridding of her strong desire to make her daughter a lady – or at least have her act like one when the occasion called for it.

The queen was nowhere in sight. Eyes widening with joy, Merida leapt out of her bed and quickly threw on her blue-green overdress. The queen's absence could only mean one thing – there were no lessons or plans. Merida didn't have to be a lady today. She splashed her face with water and fumbled for her brush, rushing through her morning routine to the point where she could hear her curls snap from the force. After she was done, the bristles were riddled with untamable red tangles. She wiped her face with the washcloth as if it were a rag and grabbed her bow, sword, and quiver full of arrows. After putting on her stockings and shoes, Merida dashed down the castle stairs, grabbing a couple of apples from a servant's basket as she ran to the stables, where her beloved steed awaited her.

"Mornin' to you, Angus!" she said heartily as she gave the horse one of the apples. She scarfed down the other one for her breakfast. She finished the last bite in a heartbeat and tossed the core to the side.

"Are you ready for a little adventure?"

Angus gave an enthusiastic neigh of approval.

Within minutes, they were riding through the gates of Castle DunBroch and out into the forest – her favorite place to get a healthy dose of freedom. The next thing Merida knew, she was shooting arrows at the dangling wooden targets she had made and hung from the trees herself. The paint could barely be seen on them, and they were each already filled with a bouquet of arrows. If she had taken the time to retrieve them all, she would have had enough arrows to last her quiver for at least several months. The wind blew in her hair as she rode deeper into the forest, the midmorning sun peeking through the canopy as a large grin crossed her lips.

It would be quite an unfair observation to say that Merida's only real passion was for her archery or Angus – or even the forest, for that matter. Aside from her family, there was only one thing that she loved above all these things: adventure. She had already taken a drink from the Firefalls (a waterfall where it was said that only a king would be able to take a drink from), watched the birds fly from the mountains, and explored virtually every inch of the forest where she went to shoot her arrows. Today's ambition involved one of the very few things she hadn't done yet: take a glimpse of the ocean from the top of a mighty sea cliff known as the Maiden's Cliff.

As soon as she finished her warm-up of archery, she rode out towards the nearest shore and watched the canopy of foliage diminish as she neared her destination. When she finally reached it, she immediately saw what she wished to conquer: an immense, stony tower of rock looming over the cobalt sea, beckoning her to come to the top. She dismounted Angus and tethered him to a nearby boulder. She headed to the base of the cliff to face her challenge, scanning its height.

_If I could taste the waters from the Firefalls, then I should be able to do this. _

She set her foot upon a small ledge, grasped another that was just above her head, and hoisted herself off the sandy ground, placing her free foot a protruding piece of rock. She continued on, lifting herself higher and higher, further and further away from the safety of the shore. Before long, the great expanse of blue dominated the landscape beneath her, tempered only by the stretch of sand where she had left her horse and the cyan sky.

She was almost at the top! The pounding of her excited heart accompanied every move she made. The muscles in her arms and legs were quivering with fatigue, but her eyes were fixed on the ever-so-near peak. Her hand trembled as it reached for the edge of the peak, then – CRACK!

The ledge beneath her feet suddenly crumbled. Her screams were simultaneous with Angus' panicked neighs as her remaining arrows flew out of her open quiver, her skirts and red mane blowing like a flag in a stormy gust of wind. Angus struggled against his restraints, but before he could save his master, Merida had fainted and hit the water.

….

Angus' grief-stricken neighs continued to pierce the air. He would not be returning to the castle DunBroch. All seemed hopeless… until he noticed something swimming towards the shore. Angus craned his neck to get a better look. At first, it was vague. Nonetheless, the steed could already tell that it was more than capable of reaching its destination. As it got closer, the figure became prominent enough for anyone to see – a large, dark seal with silver spots on its forehead. On its back was the unconscious princess. Once it reached the shore and inched its body from the water, however, something strange began to occur. After nudging Merida off as gently as it could, its skin began to loosen like a cloak about to be discarded. In a moment, the skin was reduced to a puddle of fur and leather, revealing a pale, lean young man with a head full of dark, dripping waist-length ringlets. He rose, took the pelt, and gathered her in his arms, her wet skirts draping over his naked body.

Glancing of and noticing the tethered horse, he carried her over to the dry sand, knelt by the steed, and gently lowered Merida onto his lap. Angus stuck his nose over the man's shoulder to get a closer look at his master. Aside from her loss of consciousness, she had survived completely unharmed.

….

Merida could feel the strong yet gentle support of someone's arms cradling her. A blinding brightness was all that she could see when she first opened her eyes, causing them to involuntarily squeeze back shut as she rolled on to her side and coughed out whatever water was left in her lungs.

When she looked up again, she could make out the shadowy shape of a male figure from the chest up looking down upon her. As her vision sharpened, she could see that he bore a chiseled face with dark eyebrows, long lashes, a straight nose, and full reddened lips. His neck, though gracefully proportioned, seemed to be as thick and sturdy as a tree trunk. That neck was planted firmly into a set of shapely shoulders, leading down to the smooth chest that rose and fell above her. His most striking feature was his eyes. They were blue, like her own, but… somehow… _different_. They were large, vivid, lustrous. Part of her wondered if he could steal her soul if she looked into them long enough – especially under that intent gaze of his!

She could feel her face flush as she put her put her arm over her bosom, a knee-jerk reaction to his penetrating stare. She tried to form words but found it nearly impossible to speak. After struggling for what seemed like an age, she finally mustered in a voice that was much weaker than she would have liked:

"Who are you?"

He did not answer, though he seemed benign enough. The look on his face appeared to be once of concern and relief, as if he'd known her for longer than she could remember. For a brief moment she lay there, stunned by the familiarity that filled those eyes.

Suddenly, she regained her strength and common sense. She pushed him off her without further hesitation and rolled off into the sand. After quickly rising to her feet and shaking her skirt, she repeated far more assertively:

"Who are you?!"

The man who had saved her life was gone. Merida looked back at Angus, who seemed just as confused as she was. She took a good glance at the sea before walking over to the foot of the cliff to gather her fallen arrows. She let out a heavy, disappointed sigh when she found out that many of them were broken.

_I guess it's time for me to pluck the others out of my targets_, she thought while more than mildly annoyed. After she picked up the last of the few arrows that had remained intact, she noticed the dark shape of a seal swimming in the waves. She straightened and muttered one word under her breath:

"Selkie…!"


	4. Chapter II: A Story Worth More Than Gold

Merida could still feel sand in her dress as she mounted Angus, despite the fact that she'd shaken her skirts to the point where she swore her arms should've fallen off.

Her wet hair hung like seaweed down her back and over her shoulders. The heavens knew how little she cared about her appearance, yet she couldn't help but dread about how her mother would react when she saw her like this. She knew the queen would nearly die of a heart attack if she found out about her daughter attempting to climb and falling off a cliff!

Merida would have to find a way to get back to the castle without her mother seeing her. Of course, there was always the option of going through one of the back doors. The castle was quite large, so it'd be awhile before Elinor saw her – just enough time to get to her room and rummage through her chest for a change of clothes.

Then there were the servants. The women were particularly chatty and would gossip with their friends in the village about anything they could get their hands on. The sight of a drenched princess could provide fodder for a plethora of rumors – as if she hadn't already drawn enough attention to herself when she challenged the lairds' sons in the archery match for her hand in marriage.

She'd undoubtedly have to take her dress to Annis, the laundress. A laundress' silence was worth more than gold. If only she could convince her to keep quiet. Perhaps the small pouch of coins at her hip that was faintly jingling in time with Angus' hooves would help.

Merida could see the castle nearby. Making sure not to be seen by any of the villagers, she drew up her hood and went around the wall until she had easy access to the back entrance. She quickly took Angus back to the stable, slipped back into the castle, and made her way over to where the servants worked. Once she got past the kitchen, she could easily identify the laundry chamber from the steam, the scent of soaps, and the distant sight of garments on a clothesline out in the courtyard fluttering in the breeze. After making her way past a few ladies feverishly scrubbing clothes, she finally found Annis, a buxom woman with hazel eyes and tightly plaited mousy brown hair, carrying a large bundle of linens in her arms. She stopped right in her tracks as soon as she saw the young princess.

"Goodness, Merida! You startled me!"

"I'm so sorry, it's just that -"

"No worries, dear. I just didn't see you there, that's all. I'd hate to run over the princess while running the linens over to the wash!"

Annis' eyes widened with shock as she noticed the drenched state of Merida's hair and dress.

"Good lord, dear! What happened to you? You look like you just escaped from a fisherman's net!"

"It's kind of a long story."

"Come on, lass. You know nothing gets past a laundress," Annis replied with a small, somewhat playful smile.

And boy did Merida know how right she was. Annis knew when her three little brothers decided to have a food fight and which one still wet his bed. Annis knew which nights her mother Elinor tossed and turned at night and sweated over the state of the kingdom. Annis knew when her father King Fergus had an adventurous night full of merriment and excessive drinking with the lairds. By golly, she even knew when Merida was due for her cycle!

"All right," Merida said with a sigh. "But can we talk somewhere more private?"

….

"You fell off a cliff and were rescued by a selkie?! Oh my lord, Merida! Do you have any idea what you're hiding from your mother?!"

"If she found out, she'd never let me leave her sight again!"

"Most women would kill to have a story like yours to tell!"

"Not my mother – she'd kill me for having that story to tell!"

Merida fumbled to untie the bag of coins from her belt and held it out to Annis.

"Just promise me you'll keep this between us – please."

"Put the purse away, lass. You story's worth more than gold."

Annis swiftly returned her gaze to Merida's hair and attire. Her dress was still very damp, and her usually fiery red mane hung pitifully from her head.

"I'd better draw you a bath."


	5. Chapter III: Sore Losers

p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"Elinor sat ramrod straight in her throne./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"Her fingers drummed pensively against its intricately carved wooden arm. The muscles in her face felt like stone as she concentrated her efforts on keeping her anxiety under wraps. The fact that her husband Fergus was seated by her side made that a bit easier./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"The lairds of the three most important clans in the kingdom stood before them – and this time, they'd brought their wives along with them./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"It seemed that the MacIntoshes didn't want to be here any more than they did. Lord MacIntosh, a man as skinny as a twig with dark brown hair that stood out from his head like a lion's mane, leaned back in his chair as he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Lady MacIntosh sat in the next chair and was examining her fingernails. She was a curvaceous woman with bright red lips and long chestnut hair adorned with gold cuffs. Around her neck was a gold necklace bearing the MacIntosh crest, and her wrists and fingers were amply adorned. Both were clad in the red tartan of their clan – he wore his usual kilt, while she sported a roughly woven cream colored gown with a leather corset and a plaid overskirt./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"Across from them sat the MacGuffins. Lord MacGuffin's face was barely visible beneath his thick dark blonde mustache, beard, and eyebrows. Even so, it looked like he would've rather been somewhere else. Lady MacGuffin, a stout blonde who wore her hair in two long braids, sat by him with her hands neatly folded on her lap and her lips curled in a polite smile. Like Lady MacIntosh, she also wore her family crest around her neck – except hers was a golden medallion on a thick ribbon of leather. They too wore the tartan of their clan – an olive green accented with rust./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"Between them sat the Dingwalls. Lord Dingwall, a short and wide man with a face full of character and white hair that stuck straight up from his head, leaned back in his seat with his hands folded on the table. His wife, Lady Dingwall, was the one who had called the meeting in the first place. The poor woman's nose stuck out from her face like a bird's beak, and she was so petite that the chair she sat in seemed to swallow her whole. Her fair hair was pulled tightly in a bun. A pale green tartan shawl draped over her sloped shoulders, fastened by a brooch engraved with the Dingwall crest. She sat upright with her head held high, as if doing so made her look more important. Sick of the stifling silence, Queen Elinor rose from her throne and cleared her throat./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Thank you all for coming at such short notice. I understand that there is an issue at hand you seek to address?"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Yes, your highness," Lady Dingwall said, standing up. "As you all know, my son was the victor of the games at last year's presentation of the princess. In keeping with tradition and the agreement between the clans, I have come to claim for him what he has rightfully earned – your daughter's hand in marriage."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"King Fergus bolted up as if he were struck by lightning./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""What?! I thought we agreed to call off the betrothal!"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""You cannot call off such deeply rooted customs so easily," Lady Dingwall replied./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""And who are you to make such proclamations? Last time I checked, I, Fergus, and my beloved wife Elinor were king and queen of DunBroch – not Lord and Lady Dingwall!"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""A good king listens to the wishes of his people and keeps his word."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""A good king does not sell off his daughter like prized chattel!"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""If you will not fulfill your duty to us, then you leave us no choice but to forfeit our alliance and declare war against you!"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"Suddenly the whole room broke into pandemonium. The words and shouts of the lords and ladies drowned each other out and were thus reduced to nothing more than a massive chaotic racket. After a few minutes, Elinor couldn't take it anymore./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""ENOUGH!"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"The room fell back into silence. The queen cleared her throat once more./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""In light of your concerns, I would like to propose a compromise," she stated, putting as much effort as humanly possible into recollecting and maintaining her composure./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Lord and Lady Dingwall," she continued, "I cannot promise your son our daughter's hand. However, he may have a second chance to prove himself worthy of her along with the firstborn sons of the other clans."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""How so?" Lord Dingwall asked. He had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole council. Typically, he'd have spat out more than a few snappy quips at the other lairds by now. In fact, if Elinor remembered correctly, he was the one who'd mooned them when his son's arrow hit the bull's eye!/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""I will host another set of games," she answered. "If he wins, then he will have Merida's hand in marriage – provided, of course, that he can also win her heart."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Very well," Lady Dingwall said. "We will accept the terms."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""What say you, MacIntoshes and MacGuffins?" asked King Fergus./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""I accept them as well," replied Lord MacIntosh./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""As do I," stated Lady MacIntosh./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Aye," said Lord and Lady MacGuffin in unison./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Are there any last concerns that you'd like to raise?" asked the queen./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"The lairds and ladies simply shook their heads. King Fergus stood from his throne, more than ready for the grueling meeting to end./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""All right, then! I now declare this council over."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"The lords and ladies then left the room as quickly as they came. After hearing the boom of the massive door closing, Elinor rushed to her husband's side and wept on his shoulder./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Oh, Fergus! I promised Merida that she could find love in her own time – and I broke it! I broke my promise!"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""It's all right, lass. You did the best you could."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""I especially like the caveat you threw in there," Fergus added./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""What caveat?"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""The one about winning her heart," he replied with a grin./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""And don't you worry about that wench Lady Dingwall. I'll make sure to keep the Dingwalls' sticky paws off our daughter."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""I still need to break the news to her," Elinor commented./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Just make sure to tell her about that caveat. As long as she knows that part, she'll be just fine."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Thank you, Fergus."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""For what?"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"Elinor just smiled and wiped the last of her tears from her eyes./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;"…./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Looks like we'll be playing with the big boys again," Lord MacIntosh retorted./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""There's really no need to fret," replied his wife as she tossed her hair behind her shoulder./p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""After all, our son's a lady killer. And we both know where he got his good looks from," she quipped with a wink. "Although I must admit it'd be nice to have the princess for a daughter in law."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""True," Lord MacIntosh commented. "But I think he might have already found a lass of his own."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Who?"/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Some lesser noble girl, I think."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 1.75em; color: #3a4145; font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 31.5px;""Well, isn't she lucky? Well then, it looks like we already have a backup plan. If all else fails, we'll only be going for the food."/p 


	6. Chapter IV: Of Dreams and Ill News

_How am I supposed to tell her? She'll be heartbroken!_

_Remember the caveat that Fergus mentioned? _

_Yes, but still – I promised Merida that she could find love in her own time! _

_You've done what had to be done. You are the queen – she must listen to you! She'll understand eventually. _

Elinor's muttering mingled with the sound of her footsteps climbing up the castle stairs. Muttering was a typical habit of hers when she was fretful or had something on her mind. In each hand she held a fistful of her skirts in a viselike grip. As she neared the door to her daughter's room, her shoulders drew back, her chin automatically lifted, and her back became as straight as it had been when she was sitting in her throne at the council earlier with the lairds. Inside, however, her knotted and churning stomach sunk into her velvet shoes and had taken her heart along with it.

She placed her hand deliberately on the handle and turned it slowly. She took a deep breath and opened the door, entering the room with one graceful step. Suddenly she heard a small gasp.

It was Merida. Annis, one of the family's most trusted servants, had drawn her a bath. Luckily, there was an ample amount of suds to provide coverage and thus maintain the princess' modesty. Some of it dotted her hair. In fact, there was so much that it threatened to spill over the tub. The innocent, albeit surprised look on her face made Elinor's immediately soften.

"Um, Mum… I'm naked – naked as a wee puppy!"

"Oh -!" Elinor straightened once more. "Sorry dear. I'll leave you alone for now."

The queen swiftly stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her. She leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh of both stress and relief. That childlike look on her daughter's face had been a much-needed comfort for the headache that Lady Dingwall had given her earlier on, and yet it made the task of telling her the ill news weigh even more heavily on her heart.

It seemed like a mere moment later when she heard a creak from the door. Perhaps she'd been standing there longer than she'd reckoned.

"Mum?"

It was her turn to let out a startled gasp.

"Oh, sorry!"

A look of confusion and concern suddenly appeared on Merida's face.

"Mum, are you all right?"

The queen straightened once more and smiled.

"Yes. I'm fine, dear."

"Uh… Since you're still here, would you mind lacing up this dress?"

"Of course."

Elinor stepped back into the room and closed the door behind her. Merida turned around, pushed her hair over her shoulder, and automatically placed her hand on one of the bedposts. Neither one of them could remember the last time the princess had worn the dress she'd just asked her mother to lace up. It was a simple dusty green number with little adornment, save for a band of gold embroidery along the neckline. Elinor carefully threaded the leather lace through the grommets and tugged on it gently to secure the gown closed, making sure that her daughter had ample breathing room.

"There you go, dear." she said as she tied the final knot.

Merida removed her hand from the bedpost and turned around. Elinor couldn't help but appreciate how the old dress flattered her daughter despite having not been worn in ages.

"You look beautiful," she commented.

"Well, Annis took my other one to wash it, and I didn't have much else to wear."

Elinor laughed.

"Merida – if there's any advantage to being a princess, it's that you can have all the dresses your heart desires!"

The queen's smile quickly faded as her thoughts turned back to the message she had to bring.

"There's something I need to tell you, dear," she said after taking a deep breath.

"What is it?" Merida asked, keeping her gaze on her mother as she took a seat on the edge of her bed.

"I've been in council with the lairds," Elinor began. "It seems that the Dingwalls aren't happy with the agreement we settled on at last year's gathering."

"What do you mean?"

"Lady Dingwall wanted to claim your hand in marriage for her son."

"What?"

"I didn't comply with their demand – well, actually, _her_ demand. However… In order to prevent war… I had to make a compromise."

Elinor let out a heavy sigh before continuing.

"We settled on giving the lairds a second chance at winning your hand in marriage. However, whoever succeeds must win the games – and your heart."

She paused again.

"I wish you were there so you could've had a say in the matter."

The queen tensed, returning to the state she was in before she first walked through the door and bracing for her daughter's visceral reaction.

But there was naught but silence. However, the welling tears in Merida's eyes couldn't be ignored. She sat up as straight as her mother, trying her best to hold them back. It simply wasn't enough.

"Mum," she choked out. "I _**hate**_ this. Every last bit."

"But," she continued after somewhat regaining her composure. "I know that I've already risked starting a war among the clans once, and I can't afford to risk that again… so I'll do it."

Elinor was quick to give her a strong, affirming hug.

"I know how hard this is, dear. I'm so proud of you."

The queen loosened her embrace and looked her daughter straight in the eye.

"Well, if it brings you any comfort, I don't like it any more than you do."

The only response Merida could give was a weak "Thank you".

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Elinor asked.

"No. I think I need to be alone."

The queen rose from her seat and headed for the door, quietly closing it behind her.

Suddenly the tears came afresh. Merida quickly grabbed a pillow and held it for dear life as she collapsed on top of her bed, silently cursing herself for her excessive weeping. Nonetheless, her tears continued to dampen her pillow until the heavy blanket of sleep came over her eyes.

...

That was when the creature first entered her dreams. She'd seen him before – right after she fell off that wretched cliff on the beach.

They were there again, in that very same place. She was lying in his arms once more. This time, however, he held her in a noticeably closer embrace. There was no Angus looking over his shoulder either, or even the sound of distant whinnying. In fact, aside from the soft crashing of the waves, there was nothing but utter silence.

Nor was there a rush of common sense to slap her back into her right mind. All she could do was lie there and stare back into those sapphire orbs that glimmered like the sea as they peered intently into hers.

She could feel his fingers softly brushing some stray strands of hair from her face. He looked deeper into her eyes, until she thought she couldn't stand the intensity of his gaze. She knew her sudden shivering didn't come from the cold and damp condition of her clothes.

The man lowered his eyelids, finally breaking his long stare. His lashes were just like the wavy mane that cascaded down to his narrow waist: long and thick and dark. Both contrasted sharply with his marble white skin.

He reached for her hand and took it in his. Merida noticed how elegant that hand was as it guided hers to his chest, despite the short and somewhat rugged nails.

Beneath that firm and naked chest that rose and fell as steadily as the waves, she could feel the selkie's heart beating against her palm. Suddenly, her nervousness seemed to wash away like a mound of sand built too close to the ocean to last. She actually didn't mind it when he pulled her even closer.

She allowed herself to lean against him and eventually fall into a more blissful sleep.

...

Frodo suddenly awoke and was shocked to find the redheaded lass missing from his arms. A few moments ago, he could have sworn he was holding the same girl who'd tried to climb that cliff earlier that day.

The light of the full moon glimmered on the water before him. Thanks to his previous misadventures in Mordor, Frodo had become accustomed to sleeping on the rocks. Besides, he didn't have a magical pelt to keep him warm and comfortable back then, nor did he have the privilege to gaze upon the clear night sky as he did now. For a moment, he thought about how his friends back in Middle Earth would enjoy the view from here. He had hoped (and still did hope) that Galadriel, Gandalf, Elrond, and his uncle Bilbo made it safely to the Undying Lands. After saying a silent prayer for them, his thoughts turned back to the girl.

He remembered how frightened she'd looked at first. He wanted to tell her that he had no intent of harming her, but somehow words seemed far too flimsy to do it justice. Frankly, he thought pressing her hand against his heart was an even bigger gamble, but somehow it seemed to have actually worked. In that moment, he'd felt something. Something he'd thought he would never feel until he died. It was as if he'd been carrying the world on his shoulders, and his burden had finally been lifted.

He didn't know why he felt that way. It just didn't make sense. He hardly knew her. For heaven's sake, he didn't even know her name!

Alas, it was what it was. Before drifting off to sleep once more, he vowed to find out who that girl was.


	7. Chapter V: The Witch's Advice

Merida awoke to find herself still wearing the dress from the previous night and trying to recall the last time she'd slept so deeply. 

She thought groggily about how long poor Annis would spend getting the wrinkles out of it.

The one she'd given to her previously was draped over the chest at the foot of her bed. She finally rose and attempted to unlace the dusty green number she was wearing. It would have been easier if she'd had someone to help her, but she didn't want to face the embarrassment of someone knowing that she was too lazy to even change into her bedclothes.

After a few awkward moments of struggling, she finally succeeded in divesting herself and threw back on that trusty blue dress. She was quick to wash her face and brush her hair in her usual brusque fashion. After finishing her relatively brief morning ritual, she grabbed her bow and arrows, rushed down the stairs, and ran to the stable to fetch Angus.

After having that dream, she knew what she had to do: return to the cottage of the witch who she'd asked previously to change her fate the first time suitors were after her hand in marriage. Of course, she couldn't rely on the will-o'-the-wisps, so finding the cottage would be difficult. At least she knew that it was somewhere past the standing stones.

Without much further thought, she mounted the horse and dashed out the gates of Castle DunBroch. Despite her uncertainty about the cottage's whereabouts, she and Angus sped straight ahead into the forest, towards those stones that she knew so well.

For some reason, Angus was still hesitant about going past them once they got there, and thus resulted in Merida having to coax him onward. She still clearly remembered that day when Angus came to a complete halt there and sent her flying, soiling the already ruined dress that her mother shoved her in when the lairds first attempted to win her hand in marriage. Luckily, after taking a brief but good look at the forest ahead, she got a better idea of where the cottage was. She sped on ahead, past more forest, until she finally spotted that unmistakable door beneath a moss-covered hill.

She halted and dismounted Angus, then led and tethered him to the nearest branch before knocking on that door. It creaked open. Merida cautiously stepped inside. There was no light in there save for the sunlight spilling through the doorway. The walls bore noticeably fewer of the witch's kitschy wooden sculptures, including several unfinished pieces. Merida assumed that this was due to the fact that she'd bought them all the last time she asked a favor from her. Her carving tools still littered the counters. That was a good sign. But… where was she…?

"CAW! CAW!"

Merida jumped at the sound of a raven calling loudly in her ear and the furious flapping of wings. A few black feathers fluttered to the floor as it flew past her and perched itself on one of the shelves. She knew this raven all too well: it was the witch's pet who rarely left its master's side. The voice of an elderly woman soon materialized from behind her.

"Hello, dearie."

Merida gasped and spun around to find the old witch emerging from the shadows.

"Have you come to ask me for another spell to help change your fate?" asked the witch.

"Um…no."

"Good – because there's no way I'll be doing that kind of magic again!"

The old woman glanced at her unfinished works on the counter.

"Did you come for some more of my wood carvings? They'd make fine gifts!"

"No."

"Then why exactly are you here?"

"I need some… advice."

"Hmmm… What kind of advice?"

"Do you know anything about selkies?"

The witch's eyes widened, and a quiet gasp escaped her almost nonexistent lips. However, she shook her head and quickly snapped out of her stupor after a few seconds.

"Does the sun rise in the east and set in the west?! Of course I know about the selkies!"

The old woman's expression became somewhat inquisitive.

"May I ask why?"

Merida took a deep breath.

"I think I've encountered one."

"Do tell, child!"

"I was trying to climb the Maiden's Cliff the first time I saw him," Merida explained.

"I was almost at the top when I fell and… He saved me."

The witch listened in stunned silence.

"Then, when my mum told me that the lairds were after my hand again, I started having dreams about him."

"Oh my," commented the elderly woman.

"Tell me what you know about the selkies," she instructed to Merida.

"Um… I know that they typically come in the form of seals, but can shed their skins to become human."

"Mmm… Good start."

"I know that they also like to frolic on the beach at night and sometimes can be seen sunbathing on the rocks."

"Mm-hm."

"…And I've also heard stories from my mum about men taking selkie women as their wives or mistresses by stealing and hiding their pelts."

Merida paused as the wheels in her mind turned furiously for any other tidbits on information concerning those creatures.

"Is that all?" asked the witch.

Merida sighed.

"Yes."

The old woman looked at her with a glint in her eye that suggested a peculiar excitement, as if she were eager to show her something delightful that had been previously overlooked.

"Have you heard any stories about the males?"

The wheels in Merida's head began to turn again.

"Aside from my little tumble off the cliff? No… I don't think so."

"Allow me, then. Male selkies, like their female counterparts, are magical creatures that are beautiful to behold. If a woman finds herself unsatisfied with love, she can call upon a selkie lover by going to the nearest shoreline and crying seven tears into the sea…"

A grin crept up on the witch's face.

"…And he'll love her in a way that no man can match."

The grin quickly faded.

"But she should be prepared for when he returns to the sea. If any selkie-male or female- stays on land for too long, especially without their pelt, they'll perish."

"As for your situation," she continued, "Did you say that you were having dreams about him?"

"Yes."

"He's beckoning you – he **_wants_** you to call him. Besides, with those dim witted lairds chasing after you again, I can see why you'd be unsatisfied!"

"You wanted my advice," the witch stated, "so my advice I'll give: take the seal-lad. If nothing else, let it be your last hurrah of freedom."


	8. Chapter VI: Seven Tears

Merida untied Angus from the tree where she'd secured him during her visit with the witch. 

In the blink of an eye, she'd mounted him and dashed back to the beach where she'd tried to climb the Maiden's Cliff.

The sun was already past its noon peak, though its rays still spilled through the foliage of the forest. The conversation she just had with the witch still played in Merida's mind.

_You wanted my advice, so my advice I'll give: take the seal-lad. If nothing else, let it be your last hurrah of freedom. _

_If a woman finds herself unsatisfied with love, she can call upon a selkie lover by going to the nearest shoreline and crying seven tears into the sea…_

She didn't put much thought into why she was going to the shoreline. She didn't believe the old witch's tale – did she? Of course, this was coming from the girl who'd managed to turn her mother into a bear.

Angus halted when they reached their destination. Merida dismounted him at once, removed her shoes and stockings, and headed for the tides.

_If I could turn my mum into a bear, summoning a selkie should be practically as easy as breathing – especially one who __**wants**__ to be summoned! _

The waves were already lapping at the hem of her skirts.

_High tide. Perfect. _

She stepped out a little further into the water.

_Come on, Merida. You can do this. Just think of the saddest thing you can come up with. _

The first thing that came to mind was the story about her father losing his leg to Mor'du. It was her fourth birthday. She'd received her first bow and arrow and was playing around with her new toy when she'd heard the sound of a great bear roaring. She tried to recall every detail of that fateful day – her mother's panicking and riding with her back to the castle for safety, the way she looked on at him battling the beast with nothing but a spear, and her screaming "DADDY, DADDY!"

Nothing. She didn't even well up. Maybe the memory was just too distant.

She tried the fight she had with her mother after she'd shot her arrows in front of the lairds. She remembered running out of the room crying after Elinor ripped her bow from her and threw it in the burning fireplace. If she were riding to the sea then she wouldn't have had her current dilemma. In fact, she probably would have summoned a whole host of selkies. She chuckled at the thought before snapping back to the present.

She let out a heavy sigh. Still no tears.

She pulled out one last memory to the front of her mind.

_This one better make me cry. _

It was when she thought she was going to lose her mother forever. She'd just hastily repaired the tapestry that she had sliced open with a sword during her previous angry outburst. She remembered watching the sun rise and how the crudely sewn tapestry draped uselessly over her mother's ursine form as she sobbed into her bosom, apologizing profusely for everything she'd done. Thankfully, the spell was broken, but…

Nothing. Merida cried out in frustration and stormed back to shore. There was no way in hell she was going to summon a selkie with this kind of progress.

The tide gently lapped at her stomping feet like a lover begging her not to go. The sand cushioned and cradled her bare soles as she suddenly stopped and looked at the sky. The indigo velvet canvas was glimmering with diamonds and a pearl white moon. This place was beautiful and seemed to be pleading her to stay…

Merida then remembered something her mother said about the selkies – about how they could control nature.

_Could it be him? _

Maybe her efforts weren't entirely in vain. But then why was she suddenly so tired?

…..

Frodo, in the form of a dark grey seal with silver spots and large blue eyes, looked on from the rocks that he blended in with. As soon as he heard the distant sound of hooves, he craned his neck above his hiding place. His eyes widened when he saw who was stopping by on the shore.

_It's __**her**__. _

It was her indeed – the redheaded girl from his dreams. He watched as she tethered her horse and bared her feet. She didn't even bother raising her skirts when she began to wade in the sea. And then… She just stood there looking distraught.

He furrowed his brow in both puzzlement and concentration, as if determined to solve a difficult riddle. Suddenly he heard the strange voice of an old woman in his head.

_If a woman finds herself unsatisfied with love, she can call upon a selkie lover by going to the nearest shoreline and crying seven tears into the sea…_

The voice changed. Now he could've sworn it belonged to the Lady Galadriel.

_If you want to be with her, then she must cry seven tears into the sea…_

The girl's exasperated cry startled him back to the present. He felt a sudden, strange pain in his chest as he watched her storm off back to shore.

The voice of Galadriel returned.

_… __Help her… She's calling for you…_

He couldn't quite tell what it was, but somehow something had changed in the environment – as if it were bending to his will, joining in his silent plea for the girl not to go.

Without further thought, he slipped beneath the waves and swam to shore.

…..

Merida woke up in the night to see that unmistakable face which had become all too familiar. The moonlight rendered the selkie's already pale skin as silvery white as its full source. His gaze was as tender and eager as ever. She surely would have been lost in those eyes had there not been something… different about him. She looked up and down the length of him to see what it was. The first thing she noticed was a violent white line on his left shoulder, no longer than the width of an ordinary dagger. His dark tresses were draping over his other shoulder, revealing a similar but much more serpentine one wrapped around the back of his neck. She looked down and gasped at what she saw – he was missing a finger on his left hand!

_How did I miss these?!_

She automatically shifted her gaze back to his eyes.

_How did you get those scars? _

Her hand reached to touch the one on his shoulder. The sting of tears finally came to her eyes as she felt the raised, damaged flesh beneath her fingertips. Something rolled down her cheek.

One.

The selkie took her reaching hand in his and slowly guided it to his heart – just like he had in her previous dream.

Two.

She felt the familiar beat and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Three. Four. Five.

She continued to look into his eyes and thought the exact same things she thought when she first looked into them. She couldn't stop staring back.

Six.

He touched her face with his free, unharmed hand.

Seven.

Eight.

He softly kissed her cheek and caught the last tear on his lips.

Nine.

Merida had no idea if this was a dream or not – and quite frankly, at this moment, she didn't care. She leaned on his uninjured shoulder and let him wrap his arms around her. She fell asleep in his embrace moments later.

…..

The next thing Merida knew, it was already morning. Shortly after waking up, she noticed that she could still feel someone's arms wrapped around her, as well as the rising and falling of a chest against her face.

The selkie was still there. A dark strand of his hair fell over his sleeping face. Merida looked at him closely. His previous scars were nowhere to be seen. Sensing the light of day, his eyes slowly fluttered open.

She tried to ease out of his arms and found her attempt comparable to forcing herself out of a warm, cozy bed after staying up until the wee hours of morning.

The witch's comment echoed in her mind again.

_He'll love her in a way that no man can match. _

She gasped. She was already under his spell – and she didn't even know his name (or if he had one)!

_I just woke up in a stranger's arms! My parents would kill me if the saw me right now!_

Merida bolted upright at the thought. She was sure that her mother had already worried herself half to death by now.

The selkie sat up and pushed the strand out of his face before brushing some sand off. He looked back at her once more with those azure eyes.

"Are you all right?"

She stared at him. Suddenly, her thoughts about her mother flew out the window.

"Y-you're real!"

A smile crept on his lips.

"You called me."


	9. Chapter VII: Of Names and Visions

Merida blushed. 

"Go slow on me. I'm new at this."

The selkie nodded and took her hand in his.

"As you wish."

She briefly bit her lower lip before clearing her throat.

"Umm… Do you have a name?"

"Yes. It's Frodo."

Merida's confusion quickly showed on her face.

"Frodo? Where does that come from? You look more like an Aillil or a Ronan to me."

"The Shire."

Now Merida was even more confused – and Frodo was silently scolding himself for the faux pas he just made.

"Have you heard of Bree or Hobbiton – or Gondor?"

"No! I haven't heard those names before in my life! Where are they?"

Frodo took a deep breath.

"Middle Earth. I'm from Middle Earth – or at least I was before I turned into a ."

"Selkie?"

"Yes."

"Umm… Where exactly _is _Middle Earth?"

Frodo was caught off guard. He looked off at the horizon.

"Somewhere far away from here."

His blue eyes went straight back to the redheaded lass beside him.

"I think it's your turn to tell me your name," he commented with a smile.

"Oh…! My name's Merida."

"Merida…" he echoed.

She blushed again at the sound of him saying it. Suddenly, she was keenly aware of the touch of his hand as it gently squeezed hers. Wait – was that her heart quickening its pace?

Angus' neigh startled her back to the present.

"I-I should go…"

Frodo let go of her hand.

"How come…?"

"I've been out all night! My mother's probably worried herself half to death by now!"

They both rose to their feet. Merida shook the sand out of her skirts as Frodo dusted off his pelt and draped it over his shoulders.

She turned to face him again.

"Well, it was nice to finally meet you – officially, that is."

He made direct eye contact with her again. It must've been the morning light that look that bright shade of blue. Those _eyes_.

A sweet smile curled on his lips.

"It was nice meeting you too. Well… If you need me, you know where to find me. I hope to see you again soon, Merida."

With that, he walked off into the sea and threw the pelt around his body. Within moments, all she could see was a dark grey seal swimming towards the horizon.

She stood there and stared out at the sea for a few more minutes.

Suddenly she heard the voice of her father calling her.

"Merida!"

She shook her head, grabbed her things, and mounted Angus.

_Enough with the goo-goo eyes already! You know you're in deep trouble! _

"I'm coming! YA!"

Angus neighed and dashed on. Meanwhile, Frodo had perched on to a shaded nearby rock, only partially shedding his sealskin as he watched her ride away.

…

Peregrin Took stood at the doorway to the throne room of Gondor, biting his lower lip. Denethor was still in power the last time the elegant white stone courtyard behind him seemed so intimidating.

When Aragorn became king, he'd somehow turned the marble palace from a foreboding castle that reminded him of a giant tomb to a manor of graceful yet inviting opulence – despite the fact that he'd made hardly any changes to it.

Pippin took a deep breath. He was about to tell him and Queen Arwen the worst news he'd heard in his life. His heart had sunken into his bare feet when he heard the news himself.

He remembered that moment vividly. He was back in the Shire when the messenger from the Grey Havens came riding in. At first, he wondered what an elf would be doing there. When he found out that reason, it was as if he'd swallowed a chunk of Minas Tirith's ruins – the kind that the soldiers of Gondor used in their catapults to fend off their Orcish foes during the War of the Ring.

A storm had stricken the ship that Frodo, one of his best friends, had taken to the Undying Lands. He'd fallen overboard and was now lost at sea.

Pippin had offered Denethor his service during the war, so it seemed perfectly fitting to carry on that offer to the King of Gondor – especially since Aragorn already had his friendship and his loyalty!

As someone in the service of the King, he'd insisted to the messenger that he'd deliver the news himself. His cousin Merry had stayed behind in order to help Sam and his family cope.

Pippin finally mustered the courage to open the doors and walked into the throne room.

Aragorn was sitting in the white throne perched upon its own flight of stairs. The one carved in black stone at its foot, which once seated the Steward, was now occupied by his wife Arwen. Both were dressed in the blacks and silvers of the kingdom they ruled. Pearls were braided into Arwen's hair and adorned the sleeves of her gown. A woven chain of them from the sash at her waist. The fur-lined cloak that hung from Aragorn's shoulders draped over the marble of his throne. He wore a crown, but one that was simpler than the one at his coronation.

He rose as two guards closed the doors, walking down the stairs to meet the hobbit.

"Pippin! It's been far too long since you last visited Gondor."

It didn't take him long to notice Pippin's lower lip quivering. A glimmer of worry appeared in his eyes as he got down on one knee, bringing them to the same level as his old friend and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Arwen stood up from her throne behind them.

"What's wrong?" asked the king.

"It's Frodo," Pippin answered.

"The ship that he took to the Undying Lands was hit by a storm. He fell overboard, and…"

It wasn't long before he succumbed to quiet sobs. Arwen gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth. Aragorn just knelt there and stared, his sympathy filled eyes welling with tears and his hand still resting on Pippin's shoulder.

The two gentlemen managed to compose themselves after a few moments. Arwen lowered her hand and came forward.

"What of the others? Did any of them survive?"

"I don't know," Pippin answered. "I hope at least they're all right."

"What about Merry and Sam?" Aragorn asked. "They must be devastated – especially Sam."

"I know. I'm sorry to be the bearer of such ill news."

Aragorn lifted his hand from the hobbit's shoulder and stood up.

"It's all right, Pippin. I'm glad you told us," he said. "You've come a long way. Please, spend the night."

"No, no really – I couldn't."

"Pippin," he commented with a small but warm smile, "You're in the service of the king. I think you're entitled to a few benefits."

…

Neither Arwen nor Aragorn had an easy time falling asleep that night. The king had been lying awake for a while before he succeeded in deliberately calming his mind. The queen at his side, even when she tried following her husband's suit, lay awake for hours.

The image of a drowning Frodo, the brave hobbit who she'd brought to Rivendell not too long ago, was harrowing enough. Yet there was another thought eating away at her that was no less unsettling.

Her father had been on that very ship. His fate and that of the others were unknown. That alone was enough to bring her on the verge of tears.

The familiar voice of Galadriel suddenly broke the deafening silence.

_Arwen…_

Startled, she sat up and looked at Aragorn. He was still sound asleep.

Assuming that it was just her imagination, she laid her head back on her pillow.

A few moments later, however, she heard it again.

_Arwen… Do not fear for us. We're safe here in the West. _

The soothing voice continued on.

_Frodo still lives… He has taken a new form… Though I know not where. _

She lay awake, silently begging to hear more news from Galadriel's virtually disembodied voice. Alas, the room was silent once more.

…

Faramir and Éowyn were sound asleep when the eerie blue glow of a will-o-the-wisp penetrated the darkness of their room.

The wisp floated slowly towards them, gliding in the air until it was hovering over the sleeping couple. Éowyn's long yellow tresses spilled over her face and her pillow. Her husband's arm was draped around her shoulder, while his other was raised above his head.

The wisp let out a soft, high-pitched sigh.

"Oooooooohh… Heeeeeeeeeee…."

Éowyn was the first to let out a sleepy groan before her eyes fluttered open. She then sat up to look at the thing hovering her lap. It looked like an organic blur of blue light, with two white spots for eyes. It floated up to her until it was barely an inch away from the tip of her nose.

"Eeeeeee…"

Faramir rose. The wisp quickly turned around to look at him.

"What is that…?" he whispered.

He reached out his hand to touch it. The wisp vanished before he could.

The next thing they knew, a whole trail of wisps appeared before them, leading out of their bedroom. Mesmerized, Éowyn slipped out of the covers, placed her bare feet on the floor, and began to follow it. Faramir's heart quickened it pace as he, with trembling hands, followed suit. Before long, they disappeared into the night.


	10. Chapter VIII: Another Disappearance

It'd been several days since Pippin had told Arwen and Aragorn the news of the westbound ship. 

Aragorn had extended his invitation to him since then (the king knew the Shire was a long way from Gondor). Today he was planning to send him off back home with a horse, plenty of food, and one of his soldiers as an escort.

It was still relatively early. The sun had risen only a couple of hours ago. Arwen hadn't come out to the throne room yet. A table had been set up there for breakfast – the same one that Denethor had sat at often. Fortunately, the meal hadn't been served yet. He had to admit that he was far more hopeful today than he was several days ago. Arwen had told him what she'd heard from Galadriel that night.

They were safe – and Frodo was alive. But what did she mean by "a new form"…?

A knock on the throne room doors startled him out of his thoughts. He straightened as they were thunderously opened by two guards. He was caught by surprise when he saw who they were opening the doors for: King Éomer of Rohan.

His grim expression, paired with his tall stature, broad shoulders, and the long yellow hair that identified him as one of the Rohirrim, made him look quite intimidating. His brows were knitted, and he looked as though he'd not slept a wink the night before.

"Éomer," Aragorn uttered as he rose from his seat.

"What brings you here at such an early hour?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you in such an untimely manner," Éomer replied, "but I'm afraid I have some ill news."

He paused briefly.

"My sister Éowyn's gone missing – as well as her husband Faramir."

"How?"

"No one knows. Several nights ago they seemed perfectly fine, then the next morning, they were gone without a trace. I came here hoping that they were just paying a visit to Gondor."

"I'm afraid not," Aragorn responded. "I haven't seen them in weeks."

"If I do see them, I'll let you know as soon as possible," he added.

"Thank you, Aragorn."

Éomer sat in one of the chairs and rested his arms on the table. Aragorn could tell that he was worn from travel and stress.

"Would you mind if I took a rest here?"

"Not at all."

…

"Dear gods, lass! Your mum and I have been worried sick! Where were you?"

"Sorry, Da. I kind of got lost in the forest… Just found my way back just now."

Fergus raised an eyebrow.

"Merida – I'd expect you'd be an expert by now."

"I found a new area where I've never been before – honestly!"

"Well, you are quite adventurous. I may believe you, but you're gonna have a much harder time convincing your mother."

Merida drew a deep breath as she rode along with her father and his search party. She didn't like the fact that she had to lie to him, but she couldn't risk him or her mother (**_especially_** her mother) finding out about the selkie she summoned the night before.

_I may believe you, but you're gonna have a much harder time convincing your mother. _

Her stomach tightened into knots. She looked up again at her father.

_Maybe he could help me…_

She considered his words again

_… __Or not. _

…

The doors thundered open when they finally arrived at Castle DunBroch. The knots in Merida's stomach were far from gone. Fergus put his hand on her shoulder as they walked into the throne room.

A thought suddenly crossed Merida's mind. At first, she thought it was absolutely stupid.

_Think of him._

_What? _

_Frodo – the selkie! _

_This is insane – I'm about to face my mother after running off for the whole night! I'll look like a fool and – _

_JUST DO IT. _

Finally, she did. The piercing, vivid blue eyes came to the front of her mind, followed by the elegant masculine face framed by dark and wildly long tresses that tumbled down his naked torso. Then, there was the voice she'd first heard only that morning – and the way it sounded when he said her name.

_Stop it! Stop it right now before you make yourself look like a loopy ninny! _

Only when she was done silently scolding herself did she realize that the knots in her stomach had finally loosened.

She glanced up and noticed her mother coming down the stairs. One of the members of the search party spoke up as she took the time to take a deep breath.

"We found the princess, Milady. Fortunately, it doesn't look as though she was harmed."

The queen's pace quickened as she descended into the throne room. Her back became as straight as the arrows left in Merida's quiver as she approached them, took her daughter by the hand, and lead her to her side in front of the three thrones.

Queen Elinor turned to face her husband and his search party.

"Gentlemen – you brought our daughter home safe and sound. For that, you have my utmost gratitude. As a reward for your troubles, you and your families are all invited to attend our banquet celebrating her betrothal."

The man who spoke up bowed to her.

"Thank you, your highness."

Fergus cleared his throat.

"Good job, lads. We'll see you all then!"

With that, the men of the search party calmly headed for the doors, leaving the three of them alone. Merida listened intently to the shuffling of their feet to get her mind off her parents. As the sound finally died down, she thought she could her the giggles of three little boys.

Fergus was completely unaware of their latest bout of mischief.

"Well, since that's all settled, I think I'll – "

Merida's gaze suddenly shifted to the floor. Somehow, her little brothers had managed to slip a rope around Fergus' wooden leg and tie it to the foot of his throne. She couldn't help but giggle as she clasped her hand over her mouth in order to muffle it.

He took a few steps and snapped around at the sensation of the tugging rope.

"BOYS!"

Merida's little brothers dashed off bursting with laughter as Fergus drew out his sword to cut himself free and stormed after them.

"I'm gonna get you little rascals!"

As soon as the laughter faded in the distance, Merida's gaze turned back to her mother. The queen's face was as serious as ever as she cleared her throat.

"Remember – a princess does not chortle."

"Now," she continued, her expression changing into one of concern. "Where were you?! We were both worried sick!"

"Umm… I-I was exploring a new part of the forest, and um… I… got lost, I guess."

_Well, __**that**__ was quite convincing. _

"Merida, I hope you're telling the truth."

"I am, honestly!" she replied with a nervous laugh.

Elinor took a deep breath.

"We'll deal with this later. Right now, we have some more important issues at hand."

"Umm… We do…?"

"Yes. If the lairds are to get a second chance at winning your hand in marriage, they need to get to know you better. Now, I know how much you love venturing outdoors…"

Merida's eyes widened, brows rising with curiosity.

"Yes?"

"So, I've decided to throw a hunting party- I'm sure you and the lairds will both enjoy it!"

A small smile crept on Merida's lips.

"Well, it does sound like a lot of fun. When is it?"

"It'll be in several days. In the meantime, I'd like you to brush up on your skills concerning how to be a lady. A princess must always be ready to use her charms," Elinor answered, smiling back as she uttered the last sentence.

"Lessons will start this evening at dinner. I'd recommend getting a spot of rest between now and then – especially since you were out all night."

With that, the queen gathered her skirts and headed up the stairs. Merida waited a while before following her mother's suit and heading to her room.

As soon as she was sure she was out of Elinor's earshot, she let out a heavy sigh.

"The things I must do for my people…" she muttered under her breath before Frodo's face began to haunt her mind again.

…

A trail of wisps materialized within the circle of standing stones, leading to its center. A man and a woman soon followed. The wisps vanished as soon as they reached it. The man and the woman were still in their nightclothes – he wore a loose tunic and leggings, while she was garbed in a long white nightgown adorned with subtle embroidery.

The man stopped where the trail ended and looked around, brows knitting in confusion as he scanned his surroundings.

"What is this place…?"

The woman at his side was just as bewildered as he was.

"Where did they go? I could have sworn they were here moments ago!"

"We shouldn't have followed them, Éowyn. The only other place you'll find the likes of them is the Dead Marshes – and Frodo almost drowned there!"

Suddenly, a new trail appeared leading away from the stones. Éowyn looked up in its direction and stepped cautiously towards it. Her husband was quick to grab her hand.

"Éowyn, don't!"

"They're the ones that got us here. Maybe they'll get us back home."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't – but Faramir, it's the only source of guidance we have here. I don't think we have a choice."

The distinct, high-pitched sighs of the wisps could be heard in the distance. Faramir didn't let go of his wife's hand. Instead, they warily followed the glowing blue path as it lead them deeper into the unknown land.

…

Neither Faramir nor Éowyn knew how long they'd been walking when they heard the rowdy singing of a drunken man. It was the first sign of another human soul they'd experienced in this strange land.

They didn't need to take the initiative to follow the voice; the will-o-the-wisps did that for them. Faramir was the first to notice that the trail suddenly turned towards a seashore. A patch of fog briefly impaired their vision before the dim light of a poorly lit lantern could be seen in the distance.

At first, the fisherman paid no heed to them as he nudged his boat onto the shore and dragged his net to what was presumably his house. His loud, obnoxious song continued to fill the night air. The fisherman grabbed a nearby bottle of whiskey and took a good gulp of it.

Éowyn was the first to approach him.

"Excuse me…?"

Only then did the fisherman look in their direction. He marched back to the boat, grabbed the lantern, and stormed towards the two of them.

"What the hell are you doing out here at this ungodly hour?!"

"We got lost," Faramir responded. "We need a place to rest."

For a moment, there was nothing but a silence that was as unpleasant as the scent of the musty air mingling with the stench of old fish.

Éowyn stepped forward.

"Would it be all right if we slept in your house tonight?"

The fisherman narrowed his eyes and scrutinized them both, as if he were looking for a sign of danger.

"We mean you no harm," she coaxed. "I promise."

The fisherman sighed loudly and rolled his eyes.

"All right – fine, damn it! But it's only 'cause you're pretty and my wife could use some help scalin' and bonin' the fish."

"You'll allow my husband to sleep here, too?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't push your luck, lady. Follow me."

He turned around and took another gulp of his whiskey as he led them to his shack. Faramir took his wife's hand and pulled her closer.

"Are you sure we should trust him?" he whispered.

"No, not entirely," she answered. "But please, don't worry about me. If I could slay the Witch King of Angmar, I can definitely handle a drunkard."


	11. Chapter IX: Thieves and Lovers

Faramir got a rude awakening (quite literally) when he felt the bucket of ice cold seawater dumped on his face. 

"Time to rise and shine!"

He rose from his sleeping cot to the smell of alcohol on the fisherman's breath. It'd been several days since he and Éowyn had stumbled upon him. Since then, they'd learned that his name was Crag, he was a member of the Dingwall clan, and he had a stout, buxom, and sharp-tongued wife named Bonny.

"Unnhh… Why must it always be at such an ungodly hour?"

"We're catchin' some fish! There's a big demand from the royals!"

"The royals?"

"Yeah! They're throwin' a feast after they get back from the hunt."

"What hunt?"

"They're having a hunting party for the princess and her suitors. You clearly ain't from around here, 'cause if you were, you'd already know by now. Now get your arse over to the boat before I drag you over there!"

With that, Crag stormed off. Faramir let out a heavy sigh as he slipped on a borrowed pair of boots and a cloak, drawing up his hood so that his wet hair wouldn't catch as much of the chill of the morning air.

_Of all the people we could have run across, why did it have to be him? _

Faramir made his way outside to the boat. Crag was already there, loading his fishing net.

"There you are!"

Faramir just got in the boat without another word.

"Ooh! Moody, aren't we?"

"Let's just get this over with."

Crag threw the oars in his direction.

"All right, fine – Be that way! You're rowing!"

Fortunately, Faramir caught them in his arms quite deftly. Crag let out a sigh of disappointment. He was hoping he'd fall clumsily backward like an awkward teenage boy. He didn't have time to dwell on that, though. They had some fish to catch.

Crag finished loading his net into the boat and plopped in. He lit his lantern as Faramir began to row out into the ocean. The two of them didn't speak much for a while. When they were out far enough, Crag cast his net into the water.

Soon enough, he felt something tug at his net. With a grunt, he began to pull it back onto the boat.

"C'mon, Faramir! Help me out here!"

The two men grunted loudly as they hauled the net. Sure enough, a host of wriggling, silvery fish was writhing through the ropey mesh. For a moment, Faramir looked on, impressed at Crag's skill. However, his harsh drunken voice quickly snapped him out of his spell of admiration.

"Whatcha lookin' at?! Get us back to the shore so we can dump these out!"

Faramir's nostrils flared as he picked up the oars and rowed. He did not like the man sitting across from him.

Once they reached the shore, they were quick to pull the net out and carry it over to the shack. By now, there were only a few fish that were still wriggling. Immediately after they found a good spot, they dumped out the contents. Crag's face was soon contorted in disgust.

"ARGH! The lot of these are half-eaten! Curse those god damn selkies!"

Faramir raised an eyebrow.

"Selkies?"

"Wha-? Don't tell me you haven't heard of them either! Good gods – what did I do to deserve to get stuck with a half-wit like you?!"

It took all the self-control Faramir could muster not to punch him in the face.

"All right – fine! Just tell me what they are so I won't have to ask you any more questions."

Crag let out an exasperated sigh.

"They're skin changers that take on the forms of seals. They're fond of wooing people and eatin' my fish – and they're damn good at it, too!"

Crag took another swig from his flask before continuing.

"I tried keeping one as a mistress once. She was the most gorgeous specimen I ever laid my eyes on."

Faramir raised his eyebrow again in interest.

"And…?"

"I got caught, you insatiable bastard! She ran off while my wife beat my arse!"

"I see," Faramir responded, trying to resist the temptation to smirk.

"The males ain't good for nothing. All they do is steal fish and women!"

Faramir just gave a slight nod and sorted the good fish from the half-eaten ones. He'd heard enough.

…

"Mum – if we're going hunting, then why would I need a new dress?"

A small smile crossed Elinor's lips.

"That is true. However, a princess must always look her best – especially when suitors are present."

Merida stood awkwardly on the stool with her arms outstretched out as Annis took her measurements and stuck pins into the fabric that was to become her new dress.

"Don't worry, dear," her mother reassured. "It won't be as restrictive as the one you wore the last time we met with them."

_Thank goodness!_

"Although," the queen continued, "We'll need a suitable replacement soon."

Merida vividly remembered the dress her mother was referring to. The fact she wasn't in the slightest way overweight didn't stop her from feeling as though she'd been stuffed into a sky blue satin sausage casing when she wore it. The corset her mother had laced her up in that day didn't help either. In fact, she couldn't even shoot her arrows or move about properly until she rent the damned garment to suit her purpose. She smiled slightly. Frankly, she was glad that dress got wrecked when she ran into the forest after her incident with the lairds.

Alas, as she'd told her mother several nights ago, she couldn't repeat her actions then. Not this time.

Suddenly, someone was knocking at the door. The queen was quick to answer it. It was Moddy, one of the kitchen maids. The poor lady was known for bearing the brunt of the mischief conducted by Merida's three little brothers – and this instance was no exception. She was panting heavily as she grasped the doorknob for dear life.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, milady, but the boys have been runnin' about and wreaking havoc! What should I do?!"

Elinor let out a heavy sigh as she tossed one of her long braids behind her shoulder.

"I'll take care of it."

She glanced back before leaving.

"I'll be back shortly. Annis, make sure the seamstresses get to work."

"Will do, Milady."

With that, the door closed with an audible thud. Merida breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that also resulted in some of the pins coming loose.

"Merida, try to be a little bit more still. A badly sewn dress is the last thing either of us need."

"Sorry, Annis."

"That's all right, dear. They're just pins. Try to relax a bit more."

"After all," Annis continued, "I definitely don't want to make the same mistake I made with the last one! I felt horrible when I saw you struggling to move around in it!"

"That's 'cause my mum made me wear that god awful corset when I was fitted for it!"

"Oh, dear!"

"Tell me about it."

"Well, this time I'll make sure you look your best while still being able to breathe!"

"Thanks a lot."

"It's nothing, lass."

Merida's mind began to trail off.

_Seems as though I always have to look pretty for the lairds. Why do we go through all this trouble for those buffoon, anyway? _

Her train of thought took another turn.

_What if it was for Frodo? _

Her heart skipped a beat as she imagined him admiring the novelty of the sight of her in a nice dress, his full lips curling into an approving smile and his bright, sparkling blue eyes fixated on her.

Annis noticed her face begin to flush.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Merida sighed again.

"It's the selkie."

"You mean the one who saved you?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you're not falling for him?"

Merida's voice caught in her throat.

"It's normal," Annis commented. "Especially for a girl who's had an encounter with a selkie."

She took a heavy breath.

"Although it's not good at all for a princess who has to choose her husband between the eldest sons of the three other clans. I don't know if this'll help, but… Try to imagine that the suitors are your selkie. It might."

Merida didn't reply, but one glance at the servant working on her new dress was enough to express that she knew she meant well.

The princess shifted her gaze to the window.

_That's easier said than done. _


End file.
